I’m tired. It’s a good night to sit at the bar, though, and sip Trinity’s Red Swingline ale. The title of “Wild India Session Ale” is total marketing speak. I cannot roll my eyes fast enough at such things. But the additional description of ‘coriander, tangerine barrel aged in French Oak’ I can totally get behind.

This is a sour ale but it’s very light on the palate. I probably got too much of it, though; my stomach is a little less than happy about the level of acidity. Still, it tastes very, very good, like tangerine soda. Or maybe tangerine white wine. I think I can recommend this, though for people like me (who might be touchy about the acidity), get the small pour.

Behind me I hear someone say:

“Well I think out here we’d form our own collectives you know? All that D.I.Y. shit we have out here. But you go to Kansas City and it’s gonna be every man for himself, man. Guns out and shit will be crazy.”

All I can think of is how liberal elitist bullshit that is. I don’t know what he’s talking about and I don’t really care. Humans; we’re not as awesome here or there. I quit listening.

I switch up to a Pliny the Elder IPA. I think this is my last Elder. It tastes like orange gummy drops. If I wait long enough between sips I can eventually scrape the bitterness off my tongue. This is not an improvement.

I wonder if I’m getting old, being grouchy about the Elder IPA. This beer isn’t flawed it just hasn’t got any balance to it. Or maybe I’m just reacting to the hype. For something that people go out of their way to find and get really weird about when they see Pliny, I just don’t see the allure. I think this beer is ‘improved’ by its scarcity, since they usually only release it once a year. But the Trinity was tasty, so I’m calling it a good night.

I’ve got a couplearticles on one Patrick McGovern who is trying to re-create beverages from ancient times. Not just beer, but wine and mead too, industries that were, apparently, intertwined once upon a time.

That makes sense as the basic ideas behind fermenting beverages are the same: sugars in a liquid eaten by yeast. After that it’s just a matter of keeping things free of contamination and adding whatever spices you’d like. It seems that many of the possible samples we might have for drinks made long ago are generally reflective of the wealthy, and that also makes sense. Poor people almost certainly had alcohol but they weren’t going to be preserved as well.

On a happier note, some of McGovern’s work is even represented today by more adventurous brewers like Dogfishhead, which is pretty cool.

Now we’re on to the second of the Deschutes ales: Mirror Pond, their best seller.

Nose is a little skunky. This doesn’t seem right but it happens across multiple bottles. The rest of the beer is quite light but it also moves very quickly across my tongue. The flavor of malts and hops are hard to pick up. The finish is faintly bitter but the lingering flavor is less citrus or pine and more of that skunky flavor that the nose provides.

I’m wondering if I got a bad batch, or an old one. Or one that perhaps sat on the dock for a little too long. After the quality of the Black Butte, this is surprising.

Final note: the last beer in my sixpack tasted more appropriate. The nose had some pine notes, the finish was what I expected in bitterness and the skunky quality that I’d gotten in the other beers wasn’t nearly so pronounced. There’s still something a little awkward on the finish and this leads me to conclude that this particular sixpack had something go wrong. Nonetheless, based on the beer I bought, I couldn’t recommend it, with the caveat that this beer might’ve gone bad due to circumstances beyond the brewer’s control.

“That’s a pretty ridiculous hat,” she says. She’s waiting for her drinks as I arrive and has commented on my appearance before my ass has even made contact with the barstool. She’s got got dishwater blond hair in a ponytail, a gray hoodie, with sharper features around her nose and chin.

“Thanks!” I reply, as I get settled in.

There is a pause I didn’t realize was going to be there until she speaks again.

“Any reason for it?” Her eyes are flat.

I look back, confused: I hadn’t realized this was going to be a conversation, exactly. It doesn’t feel like a fun one and it’s only the third sentence.

“Uhhh…it’s a long and dull story,” I tell her, trying to gently deflect from the subject. Why DO people wear clothes? Well…

“Oh,” she replies. I can feel a wave of judgment. I don’t know what else to say. She gets her beers and I’m glad that she is returning to her friends. I do my best not to eavesdrop on the clearly judgmental conversation she’s having with her friends but snippets come through to me as I write. I get the sense that they feel this pub is theirs.

Good luck with that.

I get Culmination‘s “ReYnard” belgian yeast IPA. Belgian yeasts and IPAs rarely seem to work well together, because the yeast aftertaste tends to be competing for space with the hops aftertaste and this one…almost works.

The nose has a bit of funk to it, with a nudge of citrus and the finish repeats the nose but with the bitterness arriving first and then something kinda plant funky on the end. The body holds it all together, albeit barely: I’m pretty sure there’s some wheat malt, because the textures resemble a wit on my tongue, a chewy quality that keeps the whole thing from going off the rails.

It’s not great though. It holds together, that much I feel confident saying, but the sum of the parts don’t create a greater whole. Still, it’s a bold choice and interesting so I’m curious about the other beers Culmination produces.

The only other beer right now is a cascadian dark ale and I frequently do not like that style. I can only think of one beer in that style I’ve ever really liked so I’m feeling dubious about trying it.

Still, the owners are here: April and Tom are their names and they are clearly enjoying themselves, talking about their business, visiting with customers as they can. The serving area has been open for all of three weeks, I hear, which explains the limited selection. It also makes me want to give them a bit of leeway: the first few months of any brewery often produces beers that aren’t quite on target, as the brewers dial the system in. Let’s try the cascadian dark. (They call it an imperial black IPA, the 4&20)

It’s got chocolate and citrus in the nose, the chocolate barely there…but the flavors go in a stranger direction. It’s sweet! The chocolate is played up heavily in the malt and the bitterness isn’t too prominent, neither from hops nor a coffee astringency that many beers of this style are far, far too guilty of.

I like this beer! I like it quite a bit. It’s got a similar issue as the previous one; the sum of the parts don’t necessarily make a greater whole but I’ll be damned if it isn’t interesting and it’s tasty enough that I’d want to share it with other people and talk about it. So I’m intrigued. Let’s see some more beers from them, and check back in a couple months.

This is the ESB-ish sorta kind beer I made that Shane gave me feedback on a couple weeks ago. Personally, I more fond of this beer than Shane was. It’s malty and I’m not detecting a peanut butter quality. But there is a sweetness in the nose, something that may be what Shane was talking about?

I also get a hint of the hops in there, the Chinook spiciness just under the surface. It’s a sweet beer though; malt is present and forward. However, it’s also sweet in a different way leading me to think that, Shane is right; the yeast could’ve produced some unwanted sweetness. It’s not fruity though, which is the characteristic I usually associate with yeast pitched incorrectly. I’m hard pressed to understand how to pitch the yeast at the correct time-the moment when it’s at the height of reproduction, instead of starting to eat itself, but that just means there’s more to learn. I’ve also incorporated into future beer recipes the temp at which I pitch the yeast, just as a data point.

The other thing is, it doesn’t taste like a 7% beer, given how light it is. This could be because there’s a steady effervescence that runs throughout the beer: even 3/4ths of the way done, it’s still got a pretty foamy head on it and carbonation is steady. It may be flawed, but it’s certainly drinkable.

I arrive with a friend in tow, who has been kind enough to pick me up after I dropped my vehicle off to get repairs. Beaverton is a long, long way to drive and I’m very thankful to have people in my life who are willing to help me out. We sit and have beers, me with the Catch 23 Experimental Hop pale ale and her with the Pipewrench IPA that’s been aged in gin barrels. Both beers are deemed to be worthy. My Catch 23 is very drinkable, the hop presence mild but enough to offset the malts. It’s a pale, if by margin.

As the evening goes on and the beer warms up, though, I begin to weary of the Catch 23. If I’d gotten a 16oz ale instead of a 20oz one, I think my feelings would be much more positive. Portions matter, as strange as it seems and the Catch 23 wears out its welcome a little faster than I would’ve expected. Especially since my initial response to the beer was very, very positive. The first few sips are incredibly drinkable and got me to look forward to having the rest.

But the Catch 23 doesn’t stick the landing. Partially because it’s just a little thin; there isn’t much to taste as the beer gets finished. That’s OK, because this is an experiment and so I expect Gigantic to refine this beer and come back with something even better. I knew what I was getting into so I’m not going to complain that it’s a work in progress. On the other hand, my compatriot is enjoying the Pipewrench and it seems to be improving as she drinks it. Sometimes, it just works out like that.

The woman next to us is reading a book; I keep glancing over to try and see what it is she’s reading. I like to read and as someone who often writes in a bar, I feel an affinity for people who read in one.

Finally, I just ask and as it turns out, she hates what she’s reading. It’s not enjoyable for her at all. I tell her: “Reading shouldn’t make you suffer. If you hate it, quit. I’ve tried to ready Ulysses twice and both times I hated myself. Fuck that. I acknowledge that Joyce is an important author but I don’t have to read that bullshit. I can be happy instead and read something else.”